Covet
by Albino Shadowz
Summary: The tainted spirit needs a playing piece. The weakened thief's body is more than perfect to use for the role. Geminishipping *ditched until further notice*
1. Part 1

**Covet**

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**Part 1/3**

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The thief could no longer differentiate between the sky and the ground. Everything was a blur of semi-decipherable color that melted together into a big, wavering blob. And the heat. The heat was ripping into his skin, making it feel on the edge of blistering, though it hadn't done such in years.

The two men who had caught him unawares were riding on two palace horses a half dozen or so feet away. The thief couldn't make out the conversation that they were having nor did he care enough to strain himself to listen.

His eyes were half-lidded as he lowered his gaze once more. The cuffs on his wrists were slicing through his flesh, flaying it until he could barely recognize the visible parts of it from pieces of meat despite the fact that they had only been on for a couple of hours. The same could be said of the ones on his ankles. Though that was probably nothing compared to how his neck looked. It burned with each impatient tug of the rope around it, the broken fibers feeling like splinters of wood. He had worried a bit of the rope closest to him with his teeth like an animal being dragged by a leash, but a few much more violent tugs on the rope and a few falls had solved that.

But then there was still the fact that he couldn't stop fainting.

He really should have been used to being deprived of water and sustenance after the long years of living in the desert thieving for both. But he wasn't. His throat felt as though it was edged with sand and his tongue a piece of leather. Neither were the most comfortable sensations in the world.

His stomach, for its part, constantly felt the need to remind him that he hadn't fed it that day with low, rumbling growls and occasional pain. Before puberty the thief would have been able to go for days with that same pinching sensation in his abdomen. But once the thief began to grow into adulthood, his appetite had grown as well. He developed a taste for meat, causing his body to constantly crave more lavish meals then he could usually supply it with.

It was hard to tell whether it was thirst, hunger, or simple fatigue that caused him to faint again.

As his eyes drooped completely closed the thief fell forward into a crouch, half of his face slamming into the sand. Luckily the man holding onto the rope stopped his horse from going any farther and accidentally strangling him.

In the foggy half-consciousness the thief could hear the two men talking again… then he heard something else. An exclamation of surprise. Something loud, something indescribable.

Light burned through his closed eyelids.

And then there was nothing.

Shortly followed by something.

There was an impossibly cold hand stroking his back, with digits slender and frigid enough to convince the thief that the hand was owned by an undead corpse come to seek revenge upon him. His eyes drifted half-open warily.

"Relax." A voice as cold as the hand that presumably belonged to it washed over him, soothing like an icy, wet salve against his calescent skin.

Despite the command the thief's muscles knotted up beneath the touch, growing taut even as the hand slid back and forth along his left shoulder blade, sharp fingers kneading in a rather catlike manner in an attempt to work out the rigidness. There was a sloppy noise that took the thief a moment to realize was, much to his disgust, the sound of the presence sloppily licking their lips.

"I had forgotten just how powerfully built you are, little thief. I can't help but feel a tad jealous."

The hand splayed itself across his shoulder blade, unable to stretch far enough to cover the extent of it.

"I'm hardly little," he hissed, stirring a bit of the hot sand next to his face as he spoke.

"Maybe not. But I do enjoy patronizing those beneath me. Is it working?"

"…Stop touching me."

A harsh laugh that reminded the thief of someone he couldn't place grated against his ears. "But given such an opportunity, I simply cannot resist touching myself."

The thief's lips curled at what the statement insinuated. Had he heard that correctly?

"Be glad that I don't have a handful of that strapping ass of yours. You're practically presenting it to me…"

Again the moist, sloppy noise met his ears, accentuated with the presence running a bony knuckle down his spine, dipping into each individual vertebra. The thief instantly moved into a less humiliating position, rolling over before those cold, thin digits could complete the thinly veiled threat.

He lifted his head up… and stared.

The sun was shining off—no, through the person. It was a spirit, doubtless, though very much unlike the ones the thief recognized from Kul Elna… he shook off such thoughts quickly.

After getting an eyeful of alien clothing, he found himself staring at the skin that wasn't covered up. It was pale, too pale, the same pale that the thief was before he had been forced to expose himself to the elements. The same could be said of their hair, though it was much longer and choppier than his. A pair of red eyes that couldn't have possibly been human stared back at him steadily while their thin lips curled into a small smirk, revealing one too-sharp, too-white canine that was glistening with saliva. A dark, wet tongue slid out of the spirit's mouth to caress its lower lip, eyes narrowing and darkening to a shade off of garnet.

"You're even better than I remember…" The voice was slippery and cold, just like the spirit's disgusting touch, and dripping with envy.

Then there was weight on top of him, straddling his stomach and crushing the chained limbs beneath them in what couldn't have been a comfortable position. The lean frame contrasted deeply with the bulk beneath it, bone crushing against muscle.

The thief let out a choked noise as the rope around his neck was jerked up by the spirit's semi-corporeal hands, nearly strangling him and forcing him to lift his head. The spirit was suddenly much, much too close, their noses very nearly brushing. The thief tensed again as the same slender fingers slid like spiders along his sharp jaw line, index finger reaching up to stroke the thick scar on his face in what could have been admiring or could have been coveting. He scowled and attempted to sink his teeth into spirit flesh, not caring whether or not it would have any effect, only to have the rope strangle him again.

The spirit's smile, with too much shine and too many points, was laced with malice and something like regret. "I can't decide whether or not I should be upset that I'm making myself into a pawn…"

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**A short little three-shot I'm writing because… reasons… :3 **

**The next part will be in Kura's POV, and the last in Kefi's. xD (I hope referring to them as 'thief' and 'spirit' isn't too irritating… O.O)**

**Reviews are loved!**

**~Albino Shadowz**


	2. Part 2

**Covet**

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**Part 2/3**

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**Pharaoh Silver, DarkspiritYami, (Guest) Sanja, darkelf777, and TheIrritableNerd, you have my thanks for reviewing. :3 **

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His former self was _gorgeous_.

Yami Bakura found himself very nearly drooling at the mere sight. He had the Thief King trapped beneath him, all firm, bulging muscle and warm, quivering flesh; an incensed beast just barely restrained. Even in such a weak state he was beautiful. Yami Bakura traced over the contours of the thief's golden-brown face with the pads of his fingers and subtle scrapes of his nails, lingering on the delicate scar tissue on the right side. His other hand held firmly onto the rope, not caring when the broken fibers sank into his hand... it wouldn't do to have the thief fighting him.

The sense of domination over such a creature was much too exquisite to be disrupted.

Yami Bakura found himself laughing. "It just occurred to me what a narcissist I am."

"Get off of me." The thief had his teeth bared in a grimace. It was a wonder he hadn't attempted biting off his assailant's fingers.

Yami Bakura bared his teeth, too, but in a smile that threatened to tear his face. "No, I don't think I will." He dipped his pinkie into the depressions between the thief's ribs as he ran his tongue over his teeth. "You see, I'm going to repossess this body, and I wish to… shall we say 'familiarize' myself with it?"

The ragged ends of the spirit's hair brushed against bronzed skin as he leaned down to press his chilled lips to the warm hollow at the base of the thief's throat just below where the rope was slicing into his neck. The latter inhaled sharply and jerked his head up to glare at him, inadvertently strangling himself again. Yami Bakura was much too absorbed in his own actions to pay any attention to the reaction in favor of nuzzling the heated flesh, even letting his greedy tongue slide out to sample it.

The thief's pectoral muscles rippled and were forced to swell outwards as he inhaled and exhaled at a considerably faster rate. At some point the larger of the two began to struggle, though Yami Bakura wasn't deterred until he felt the thief's chained wrists and hands pressing against his stomach.

"_Stop that._" The thief's voice was still hoarse with exhaustion but had a commanding air to it.

Yami Bakura arched an eyebrow, feeling a smirk tug at his lips.

"_No_," He whispered in the same tone against the other's neck.

He slid his lips across the thief's jugular, right above the rope, sick fascination welling up when the heartbeat began to thunder beneath his touch. Gingerly he began to nibble at the layer of skin protecting the vein, at the same time letting one of his hands reach up to fist a handful of ratty gray-white hair. Bakura smiled when he felt a growl rumble from deep in the thief's throat.

"It was all mine at one point, you know… My blood… my veins… my heart. I would appreciate it if you let me borrow my flesh back for a while."

Yami Bakura felt the thief's neck rumble again, though this time it was with barely smothered hysterics.

"It finally happened," the Thief King managed to choke out between strangled laughs as he stared at the sky through hazy blue eyes. "I've gone completely insane."

His mirth abruptly ceased when Yami Bakura's teeth sank into his neck hard enough to leave a dark bruise against the skin. The thief hissed and thrashed in an attempt to throw the spirit off. It only succeeded in provoking Yami Bakura to yank hard on the rope and further constrict his windpipe. The thief stopped fighting, opting instead to lie back on the sand and gasp in an attempt to suck more air into his mouth then the precious bit he was getting. Yami Bakura sat back with his posterior planted firmly on top of the thief's chained wrists and lower torso.

"Idiot," the spirit cackled quietly, working his fingers through the tangles in the thief's hair as he simultaneously gave the rope another tug. "It will take a few thousand years in the Ring before you start hallucinating."

The thief stared up incomprehensively, arms beginning to jerk beneath Yami Bakura as he instinctively struggled to get them free to remove the thing obstructing his breathing. The spirit sucked in a breath. It felt… rather nice having the warm flesh, even chained and bleeding as it was, creating friction between his legs… Unconsciously Yami Bakura began to rub back, hissing between his teeth at the sensations that ensued.

The pitiful sound of the thief wheezing brought him out of his reverie. His former self's tongue was lolling out of his mouth as he panted weakly for air. He stared up at Yami Bakura with his eyes two thirds of the way closed, letting out tiny whines between his panting.

And then it was much too difficult for the spirit to resist.

He forced the thief's head into a more comfortable position (comfortable for the spirit, anyway) before forcing their mouths together. The Thief King's lips were horribly rough and cracked as a result of the desert heat against the Yami Bakura's, but he couldn't bring himself to care. He took the lolling tongue into his mouth, slurping and sucking on the hot, slimy muscle. The little strangled noises didn't stop; if anything they increased in volume in spite of being swallowed easily by the spirit. When the thief attempted to resist Yami Bakura simply bit down, drawing a bit of blood and relishing in having the thick drops leak down into his throat. He shifted his legs to be spread more widely across the thief's wrists, moaning around the other's tongue at the rubbing that quickly ensued.

Eventually it occurred to the spirit that he ought to loosen the rope around the thief's neck as he was still choking. Although, death by kissing yourself would be a humorous way to go…

Haltingly Yami Bakura fumbled for the knot that secured the rope. He had pulled it too tight to undo it with one hand, so he had to disentangle his other hand from the thief's hair in order to work at it.

Finally the thief was freed from both the rope wrapped around his windpipe and the temporary prison of his future self's mouth. He gasped, chest and stomach swelling as he gulped down air. Ever so slowly the oxygen appeared to work its way to his brain as his eyes focused on Yami Bakura. They quickly narrowed to cobalt slits.

"Feeling better?" the spirit asked sweetly as he pressed his fingers into the ring of flesh that had been scraped raw around the thief's throat.

It was about then that the tables were turned.

In a sudden burst of strength the thief threw his weight to one side, causing Yami Bakura to lose his balance and get sent flying into the sand. He lay prone for a moment, limbs spread and crimson eyes large with shock. The spirit's surprise was promptly reined in when he felt heavy muscular bulk settle on top of him, crushing him into the gritty sand.

The scorching Egyptian sun was blotted out as the thief loomed over him, suddenly seeming significantly larger than he had before, and the next thing Bakura became conscious of was the chain from his past self's wrist cuffs stretched across his throat.

_See how you like it. _The Thief King seemed to be saying with his smug expression.

Then he was leaning over to press his forehead against the spirit's so that they were forced to see eye-to-eye.

"Who—_what—_are you?" The thief's voice was as raw as his wounds.

The spirit licked his lips, 'accidentally' tasting the thief's in the process.

Then he answered simply: "Bakura."

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**Whooooa where'd the plot go? xD Don't worry, things are going to get comprehensible again in the next and final part. Bwahahahahaha~**

**Leave me a review, lovelies! :)**

**~Albino Shadowz**


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